


teenage artifacts

by sophly



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Original Fiction, POV First Person, Teenage Rebellion, Underage Drug Use, i’d like to reiterate that this is completely fictional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophly/pseuds/sophly
Summary: A friend of mine buried a box in her backyard. Her plan was to put anything she didn’t want her parents to find in it and dig it up when necessary. I loved this plan.





	teenage artifacts

A friend of mine buried a box in her backyard. It was wooden and worn down, with a malfunctioning lock on the front. She found it in the back of a vintage shop. It was in a corner on a chair with a drooping, worn down teddy bear sitting on top of it. She bought the teddy bear too. 

Her plan was to put anything she didn’t want her parents to find in it and dig it up when necessary. I loved this plan. I told her that when she moves out she should leave the box for future delinquent teenagers to find. She agreed. I asked her if she thinks anyone’s done that anywhere we’ve lived before. She said if so, it wouldn’t be at her house. Why? I asked. Did she think that bad teenagers had never lived in that house before? She said No, she just didn’t think any teenagers that were thoughtful ever lived there. 

I watched her bury it. It was noon on a Thursday. We’d just eaten some pristine, ideal sandwiches, the kind only she could make. We were in her backyard. I could hear the show that was still on in the living room. She chose the home for the box by standing away from the grass, scanning the area with her eyes. She chose a spot near the shed, a spot where all the grass was dead. She wouldn’t let me help dig the hole. She placed the box carefully, as if it was a prized possession, as if she wouldn’t dig it up a week later. The box carried a vape, a pen, pods, juice, a small bottle of tequila (for emergencies only), a few cigarettes, a small bag of weed (bought from a friend), some stray condoms (an addition by her sister), and a small notebook. Every item was placed meticulously in regard to the other items. 

Layered carefully, the notebook was covered end to end with contraband, the condoms lay neatly stacked on another. She placed other things in it, a flower, another note, some band-aids, I snuck in a small drawing of a sleeping girl. She put a folded patterned cloth on top of all the items, just in case, she said. 

We patted down the area, stomping on it and disturbing the dirt until it look pointedly undisturbed. She was nervous, fussing with the ground and taking steps back every few seconds to make sure it looked normal. I told her it was fine. It would be fine, look, her dog was dirty, they’d think he rolled around in the spot. She took a deep breath and walked inside. 

We sat down on the couch, hardly looking at the TV. She asked me what we should put in it when she leaves. A filled notebook, I told her. Letters, pictures, drawings, two smoked cigarettes (smoked by us), empty pods, a retired pipe, and maybe some leftover weed, as a present for anyone who finds it. Maybe an extra lighter in case they didn’t have one. I asked her what she would put in it. She shrugged, some shoelaces maybe, she said. Why? I asked. She said, shoes won’t fit in the box, but at least they can take a walk in her shoelaces.

**Author's Note:**

> if you’re here, that means you read it! thank you so much.
> 
> i wrote this about a year ago and it’s been haunting me in my completed folder. 
> 
> i hope you liked it.
> 
> -sophie


End file.
